I Never Called It Abuse

https://medium.com/@courtneyreynolds_55790/i-never-called-it-abuse-c010d6497bd4

I never called it abuse. There was verbal and there was violence but I was convinced it was my fault. He called me crazy, he threatened to take my son away, he blamed me and wouldn’t listen to my needs physically and mentally. It was a warfare-like situation but I never called it abuse. He called me names, told me I was like a bitch (I didn’t call you a bitch though, he’d say) and played with semantics. Our relationship itself ran on semantics according to him. But I didn’t call it abuse and I certainly never said it outloud

And then suddenly you find yourself 41 years old and finally you are able to share the real story and face the truth. My ex-husband physically abused me and constantly threatened me. Leaving him wasn’t a clean and easy divorce but an act of courage and desperation. I dragged my son and I out of a toxic and violent situation with an alcoholic man. I blamed myself for choosing poorly, for never standing up for myself, for letting myself get emotional. And I still never called it abuse.

Women are taught that things are our fault. Whether we weren’t polite enough, if we were too shrill, if we spoke out of turn, if we gave the wrong message, and on and on and on. We make apologies for simply taking up space. I couldn’t understand why I felt suffocated and on high alert most of the time in my marriage. I knew it was terribly unhealthy but it’s taken me this long to admit I was terrified. He had convinced me I was unlovable and was lucky to be with him which is shocking because I was so different when he pursued me. He convinced his friends I was irrational, out of control, and the problem. He simply took the oxygen out of the room and my light ceased to exist. Not dimmed. Blown out with cowardice and guilt and his other tactics of manipulation.

The mental gymnastics of keeping the facade from crumbling and looking like a strong, stoic invincible woman exhausted me. The only light in my life was my son. My son and my small world carved outside of my marriage. The tiny bit at my unhappy job where I had to put on another layer of armor to sell and be “on.” By the time I would get to work, I’d already be frazzled and empty. He would come home and I would do my best to have a meal ready and our son taken care of for the last part of his day. And then I would come home at night after closing a long bartending shift and I would check on my son who made everything so much better. He made life worth living. But I would come home to find him lying in soiled linens because his father was too lazy to change him. He was never a father. In name alone.

The cruelty and manipulation continued as I raised our son alone. Court appointment after court appointment to ensure child support but I was never strong enough to throw him in jail. I played nice for our son thinking I was doing the best thing. Only now do I realize I played nice to protect our son. I couldn’t take him away but I was smart enough to keep an open flexible custodial arrangement but with no specific schedule. I always knew he was a begrudging father but pretended for our son. And I am no longer pretending.

The strength we portray to the outside world is the strength we remember ourselves having but is no longer there. My self esteem has been down to a nub and the only thing that truly saved me to get out of my marriage and have a voice was graduate school. He tried to dissuade me over and over to not enroll, to quit. He immediately applied for a job in another city when he found out I was accepted. It was this constant stifling of my ambitions, interests, anything I clung to to have a semblance of myself. I was nothing except an extension of him and there to make him look his best to the outside world.

And we thrived. My son and I thrived! It took awhile due to the lingering drama of his father but we blossomed. My son turned out to have an amazing head on his shoulders while kind and giving, empathetic and he’ll never speak to a woman like his father did. Most importantly, my son will not terrify a woman. It took every ounce of my being to keep going and make our lives happen. We survived.